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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395073">No other version of me</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlikesugar/pseuds/sweetlikesugar'>sweetlikesugar</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>All For The Game - Nora Sakavic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clubbing, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Holding Hands, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, POV Aaron Minyard, Pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 02:20:31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,955</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22395073</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlikesugar/pseuds/sweetlikesugar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Thing is, Aaron knows what stolen glances look like. He stole plenty for himself. The quick slant of your gaze, minuscule movement of your pupils and <i>there--<i> shoving the picture into your memory, quickly, like a pickpocketed wallet.</i></i></p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aaron Minyard &amp; Andrew Minyard, Katelyn &amp; Aaron Minyard, Kevin Day/Aaron Minyard, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nicky Hemmick &amp; Aaron Minyard</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>157</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>No other version of me</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p> </p><p>“Fuck”.</p><p> </p><p>Katelyn looks at him sympathetically over her laptop screen. </p><p> </p><p>“Shakes?”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron sighs, rubbing his eyes with his knuckles. For once the freezing coldness of his hands brings him relief. A particularly vicious bout of cravings has been keeping him up at night recently, driving him insane with the persistent itching he can’t scratch. </p><p> </p><p>“Take a break” she shrugs. “You did more than you expected to, anyway”.</p><p> </p><p>The thing about pre-med is that it makes Aaron feel like he’s slaying a Hydra. For every essay and quiz he submits, two more emerge due. </p><p> </p><p>But his shaking hands make him miss laptop keys making his essay look more like a toddler’s stream of consciousness so he closes it in defeat.</p><p> </p><p>“You got practice today?”. </p><p> </p><p>He downs the rest of his cold coffee and nods. “You?”.</p><p> </p><p>“No” she goes cross-eyed trying to blow a piece of hair out of her face. “Maybe I’ll finish the essay”.</p><p> </p><p>“Good luck with that” he snorts, shakily gathering his notes. “It’s a nightmare assignment”.</p><p> </p><p>“They all are” Katelyn slumps. “Don’t drink any more caffeine though, okay?” she looks at his shaky hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor’s orders?”.</p><p> </p><p>He laughs when the pen she throws at him misses his head by inches.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>The shaking persists. It’s easier to ignore when he’s running laps with Dan barking instructions left and right and Kevin running his own commentary. It’s easier when the hungry itching underneath his skin is overshadowed by burning lungs working beyond their full capacity.</p><p> </p><p>It’s when he gets off the field that his mind, previously occupied by keeping his body moving despite its protests, shifts its focus back to the abstract itching. He pretends that the sudden fatigue is the oxygen debt, that his stuttering heartbeat is his pulse righting itself, and then he looks at his hands, nails tinted bluish-purple and curses softly.</p><p> </p><p>He catches Boyd staring in his peripheral and flexes his palms, curling and fanning out his fingers, leaving a crooked middle one jutting out in his direction.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Taking off his gear takes time, partly because his hands keep slipping, and partly because he lets himself get distracted by the play of muscles of Kevin’s back as his ribcage shrinks and expands rapidly. He looks away, overcome with the wave of bitterness and residual jittery hunger.</p><p> </p><p>As if.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Eden’s Twilight is everything he needs right now. The Dust settles the worst of his cravings and mellows out the persistent itch to a pleasurable shiver. Now, surrounded by a mass of writhing bodies, he feels like he can breathe again.</p><p> </p><p>Someone brushes against his back and he ignores it until the stranger bumps into him harshly and sends him skidding to the side.</p><p> </p><p>“Shit, sorry”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin looks particularly good under a neon glow of the club lights, slightly iridescent from the sweat clinging to his neck and collarbone. Aaron shakes himself back to reality before this particular train of thought can doom his night.</p><p> </p><p>“‘S fine”.</p><p> </p><p>He squints, trying to gauge if the glassy sheen of Kevin’s eyes has anything to do with the bar, but then the song changes and he decides that the sensation of the bass rattling his ribcage in a new, unfamiliar beat is more interesting and turns back to blend into the crowd.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>He wakes up in their house in Colombia dehydrated and tired, still, but steady-handed and lacking the distracting craving that made itself home in his bones.</p><p> </p><p>If only he could rid himself of all his cravings.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Kevin is dissociating again. </p><p> </p><p>Aaron keeps his eyes on his laptop screen, but glances to the other side of the couch from time to time to make sure the liquid in Kevin’s glass is still within the confines of the cup and not spilling.</p><p> </p><p><em> Must be nice-- </em>he thinks, an intrusive thought he kills in the root.</p><p> </p><p>He gets up, eventually, when the glass in Kevin’s hand starts tilting, the liquor inside dancing just around the rim, seconds away from overflowing. Prying Kevin’s stiff fingers away from the cup takes time because he keeps trying to grab Aaron’s fingers instead, just as cold as the glass he’s forced to give up.</p><p> </p><p>He manages, finally, to free the glass from Kevin’s unforgiving hold and startles when Kevin looks up at him.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re a fucking mess, man” Aaron croaks quietly, throat suddenly dry, cold hand still held hostage in Kevin’s warm one.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin laughs, half-hysterical and half-helpless, but doesn’t reach to take his drink back.</p><p> </p><p>It then hits Aaron they’re in public space still holding hands. He tugs, disentangling his fingers and heads straight to the kitchen.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin follows.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron goes through the motions of making coffee, choppy and stilted, too aware of Kevin’s forlorn gaze between his shoulder blades.</p><p> </p><p>He cradles the mug with both hands. The heat transfers, but it’s not enough to warm his hands for more than a second or two. He sets another steaming mug in front of Kevin who turned to stare at the worn tabletop like it holds answers to all his questions.</p><p> </p><p>He leaves without looking back.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Aaron sees Kevin looking. Not at Aaron, but almost. It’s the almost that drives him insane.</p><p> </p><p>Thing is, Aaron knows what stolen glances look like. He stole plenty for himself. The quick slant of your gaze, minuscule movement of your pupils and <em> there- </em>- shoving the picture into your memory, quickly, like a pickpocketed wallet.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin is looking, not at Aaron, but almost.</p><p> </p><p>He’s looking at Andrew.</p><p> </p><p>He’s looking at Andrew even when he’s looking at Aaron, the split second of delay between what he wants to see and what is in front of him. He’s chasing something he can’t have, not anymore.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron is the almost. As good as. But he’s not--</p><p> </p><p>He’s not Andrew. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>A beanbag next to him makes a strangled noise as a body collapses into it in his peripheral. He keeps his eyes on the tv, mashing the buttons on the controller inelegantly. </p><p> </p><p>A stray limb bumps into him and he glares at Nicky sprawled next to him.</p><p> </p><p>“Toss me a controller”.</p><p> </p><p>He ignores him.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaron!”.</p><p> </p><p>Longsuffering, he hands Nicky the second controller just to shoot down his character the moment it appears on the screen.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re such a fucking asshole”.</p><p> </p><p>It turns competitive after that, Nicky loudly wailing his woes whenever Aaron shoots him down and celebrating his victories even louder.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron grows bored, suddenly losing interest in even keeping his eyes open. His grip around the controller relaxes until it falls out of his hands as he phases in and out of consciousness, staring vacantly at the screen as Nicky kills his way through the gameplay.</p><p> </p><p>“You okay?”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron doesn’t like it when Nicky gets soft like this, all worried frowns and gentle hands.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah”.</p><p> </p><p>“Bullshit” Nicky murmurs softly, eyes still on the game.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron grits his teeth. “It’s none of your business”.</p><p> </p><p>“It kinda is, legally”.</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t matter. Wouldn’t end well anyway”.</p><p> </p><p>He said too much. Nicky is staring now, head tilted.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t know that”.</p><p> </p><p>“I do” Aaron scowls. “He doesn’t want me”.</p><p> </p><p>A flash of understanding.</p><p> </p><p>“How can you be sure?”.</p><p> </p><p>“Just because I look like what he wants doesn’t mean--”.</p><p> </p><p>Andrew opens the door to the common room. The abrupt silence is stifling. Andrew raises his eyebrows and retreats to his bedroom.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron doesn’t speak for a long time.</p><p> </p><p>“He wouldn’t do that to you” Nicky murmurs with quiet conviction.</p><p> </p><p>“Wouldn’t he?” Aaron smiles wryly. “His decision making off the court is impaired, at best”.</p><p> </p><p>“He wouldn’t” Nicky looks him straight in the eye. “You’re good as you are. You’re whole as you are. You’re not a replacement and he knows it”.</p><p> </p><p>“Does he? I could be. To him, at least” Aaron sets his lips in a thin line. “I won’t be, but I’m just as good as”.</p><p> </p><p>Nicky looks put out and upset. He moves like he wants to touch Aaron, but Aaron is already hyper-aware of how vulnerable he made himself. </p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t matter. It won’t happen”.</p><p> </p><p>Maybe if he says it enough it will be true.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Pre-med makes Aaron want to drop out, on average, three times a week. He sits at the kitchen table among mountains of notes and resources, struggling through his coursework like the essay he has to write has to be carved out in marble.</p><p> </p><p>Dropping out never sounded so good. </p><p> </p><p>“No study group?”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin walks in, hair damp, smelling like the crisp outside air and cologne. Dropping out can wait.</p><p> </p><p>“If I have to do this where other people can see, I will explode”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin laughs and steps around the table to snatch the empty mug resting next to Aaron’s elbow.</p><p> </p><p>“Another one?”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron wonders why he feels like a thief when this smile is freely given.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah”.</p><p> </p><p>He pushes his notes to lay his head down on the tabletop. No one in Palmetto seems to sleep enough and he’s no exception. He closes his eyes and lets the smell of coffee and the background sound of a familiar person soothe his overworked mind.</p><p> </p><p>He only opens his eyes when he hears a soft thunk of a mug hitting the table. It’s a mistake.</p><p> </p><p>Above him, in the warm kitchen light, Kevin looks like everything Aaron can’t have. Tired but bright-eyed and fresh-faced, he looks like something to be cherished.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron wants to live in this moment forever.</p><p> </p><p>But Kevin moves away, just a fraction, to scan over his notes, tracing the diagrams Aaron redrew by hand a thousand times. It’s like he’s reluctant to leave, and Aaron gets the most ridiculous and yet most obvious idea.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you procrastinating?”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin snorts, but the twitch of his lip betrays him.</p><p> </p><p>“You are” Aaron sits up and hastily covers a smile with his mug. He’s pretty sure Kevin can see right through it anyway.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck you”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron has a response on the tip of his tongue.</p><p> </p><p>“The Queen of the Court partaking in such unseemly behavior?” Aaron snorts, lips stretched so wide he’s sure the mug doesn’t cover anything anymore. “The NCAA is clutching their pearls”.</p><p> </p><p>“No one will believe you”.</p><p> </p><p>“They will if your coursework never gets turned in”.</p><p> </p><p>“Today on Buzzfeed Unsolved-”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron chokes. Kevin snickers, turning away, shoulders shaking with mirth.</p><p> </p><p>“Fuck off”, Aaron fights down another fit of laughter, “I need to finish this”.</p><p> </p><p>“Doctor’s orders?” Kevin teases, bottom lip caught between his teeth, seconds away from losing his composure again.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron flips him off, but his chest tightens. He watches Kevin leave the kitchen, quickly tucking away a memory of the wide expanse of his back under a threadbare t-shirt.</p><p> </p><p>His hands are warm.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>Eden’s Twilight is a paradise in more ways than one. The pleasant buzz rushes through his veins and sticks salty-sweet on his tongue. The crowd is always welcome when he feels like this, slipping out of his skin and out of his mind just a little bit.</p><p> </p><p>Time flows differently when the only way of measuring it comes from fluctuations in the bassline, and that’s what Aaron likes about it, this otherworldly sluggishness. </p><p> </p><p>Nicky is entertaining, well past the point of tipsy and probably three seconds away from remembering he’s engaged, mid-conversation. Andrew and Josten are tucked away somewhere in the booth, or maybe outside, doing whatever it is that they do. </p><p> </p><p>Kevin is-- Aaron looks around, to the bar, to the booths, and can’t find him. It’s not unusual, not when the crowd is so thick and when the strobing lights make Aaron even slower than he already is, but still, he scans the club until--</p><p> </p><p>There. </p><p> </p><p>This time Aaron allows himself the luxury of taking his time when he looks at Kevin, so blatant he might have as well just touched him. He looks exquisite under the blue-purple-pink gleam of neon, shadows creasing and folding on the angle of his cheeks, his jaw, his collarbone. </p><p> </p><p>His body never stops moving, swaying to the beat of the bass-saturated air, but his brain grinds to a halt when Kevin looks right at him, catching him red-handed. The air turns charged and neither of them looks away when Kevin lifts a glass to his lips and Aaron desperately wants to shift his gaze, maybe trace the flutter of Kevin's throat as he swallows, but he doesn’t dare.</p><p> </p><p>It’s only when someone digs an elbow into his spine painfully that he turns around spitting curses, whatever force contained in Kevin’s gaze no longer holding him hostage.</p><p> </p><p>The heavy weight of a glare between his shoulder blades keeps him company for the rest of the night.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>He wakes up with a dehydration headache and with his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He doesn’t know what time it is and he doesn’t care.</p><p> </p><p>Columbia always feels like a place immune to the passage of time.</p><p> </p><p>The trek to the kitchen takes years, mainly because every couple of steps he needs to stop to steady himself. He’s not concerned with the person fumbling with the cabinets until he realizes it’s Kevin.</p><p> </p><p>The atmosphere turns electric once again when their eyes meet.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron refuses to speak first.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin takes out another mug from the cabinet. “Coffee?”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron takes it as the peace offering it is. “Yeah”.</p><p> </p><p>The silence is not suffocating, but it’s not fully comfortable either. Aaron knows Kevin won’t let them ignore whatever happened last night. </p><p> </p><p>Here’s to hoping Aaron will come out of it intact.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin hands him his mug and moves to the other end of the counter. Aaron appreciates the gesture. He looks down at the pitch-black surface of his drink like it will tell him what to do.</p><p> </p><p>“Are we going to talk about it?” Kevin sighs, eyes rimmed with shadows and tired, but his voice is strong.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing to talk about”.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaron”. It’s not a plea, but it’s as good as.</p><p> </p><p>“It doesn’t matter, Kevin”. Aaron closes his eyes to gather his wits. “You don’t-”.</p><p> </p><p>He opens his eyes to look at Kevin and that’s a mistake. His face is soft, eyes bright and honest. Aaron can’t take it. </p><p> </p><p>“I don’t?”.</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t want me”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin frowns. “I do”.</p><p> </p><p>The conviction in his voice punches the air out of Aaron’s lungs. It’s everything he wanted to hear but he can’t let himself have it. </p><p> </p><p>With a trembling hand, he puts his mug on the counter and crosses his arms on his chest, nails digging into his biceps.</p><p> </p><p>“For all the wrong reasons”</p><p> </p><p>“Why would you think that?”.</p><p> </p><p>“You don’t want me. You want someone who <em>looks </em> like me” Aaron hears the pained inhale but looks away. He has to say it. “And I’m almost what you want. As good as”.</p><p> </p><p>“Aaron-”.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t be him” Aaron hisses, meeting Kevin’s eyes, finally, “I <em> won’t </em>be him. Not for anyone. Not for you”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin sets his mug down. “I know that. I don’t want you to be him. I would never do that to you”.</p><p> </p><p>“Wouldn’t you?”. He aims for derisive but it falls flat, comes out vulnerable.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin moves closer slowly, never breaking eye contact. He stops when he’s close enough Aaron can feel the heat coming off of him in waves and has to tilt his head slightly to keep looking him in the face.</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t want a replacement. I don’t think I ever wanted him in the first place”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron gives him a doubtful look.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin shakes his head. “I know you. I don’t want as good as and I don’t want an almost. I just”, he passes a hand through his hair, “just you. As you are. Never as someone else”.</p><p> </p><p>He lets Aaron think about it in silence.</p><p> </p><p>“Okay”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin smiles, slow and sweet, like a sunrise. “Yeah?”.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, I- I want that”.</p><p>Kevin moves, letting his hand hover in the space between them for a second, and when Aaron doesn’t move away he brushes his warm knuckles over Aaron’s cheekbone so gently it makes them both ache. Aaron smiles, barely there, and a pad of Kevin’s thumb catches on the corner of his lip, glides down to the edge of his jaw, featherlight, and falls away.</p><p> </p><p>They breathe easier now, no longer stealing glances. They are now freely given.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
<br/>
</p><p>There’s only one more thing they need to talk about before Aaron lets himself bask in this newfound prosperity. He glances at Kevin, admiring his profile in the pale whitish-blue glow of the laptop screen as they sit curled on the living room sofa, house empty save for them.</p><p> </p><p>“If we’re doing this” he murmurs before he loses his nerve, before he can focus solely on the soothing warmth radiating from the body next to him. “I need you- I need you to get clean. Or at least try to”.</p><p> </p><p>He tucks his knees into his chest and turns sideways to look at Kevin, who looks straight at him.</p><p> </p><p>“I can’t- if I’m trying to stay clean and you’re not it will- it will fuck me up, Kevin. I can’t- I won’t do that to myself”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin looks down, forehead creased in apprehension. “I know. I don’t- I don’t want to do this to you either”.</p><p> </p><p>“It’s- you’re fucked up, man”, Kevin laughs humorlessly, “but I want you to try. I know you can”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin deflates, head falling to the side on the back of the couch. They’re so close Aaron can feel Kevin’s warm breath on his cheek.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll help?”.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah. Of course”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron lets his cold hand rest between them, palm up.</p><p> </p><p>“When I fuck up-”.</p><p> </p><p>Aaron shrugs. “Then you try again. Practice, right?”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin snorts. “Aaron Minyard? Willing to practice?”.</p><p> </p><p>“No one will believe you”.</p><p> </p><p>Kevin laughs fully, and Aaron basks in it. A warm hand finds his own.</p><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>When Kevin looks at him now, he sees Aaron. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>and i was so caught up in the idea of aaron loving his wife, that i forgot i live in the world where i can write whatever the fuck i want<br/>comment and leave kudos if you enjoyed or you can hit me up on <a href="https://mindlesslittlefreak.tumblr.com"> tumblr</a> or <a href="https://twitter.com/raccoon_dad"> twitter</a> to show some extra love</p></blockquote></div></div>
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